


A Very Hapless Holiday

by PandaPantsLuvsU



Series: Survivor's Guilt [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alpha Alex, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, But only if you squint, Christmas, Denial, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, It's consensual, Kind of Lams, Multi, Omega John, The ABO isn't as prevalent but it still kind of is, and by that I mean teenagers, but the author still doesn't condone it, they're children, very lightly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 08:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PandaPantsLuvsU/pseuds/PandaPantsLuvsU
Summary: It's the Laurens' family's first Christmas without their mother, and John is determined to make it as perfect as possible.But when do things ever go his way?





	A Very Hapless Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Christmas special! I hope you enjoy it!  
> Warnings: recent death of a parent, mention of alcoholism, and verbal abuse by a parent. Also, very (and I mean VERY) lightly referenced consensual underage sexual content.  
> Oh that happy note, enjoy the special!

John rolled out of bed at five-thirty, rubbing sleep from his eyes.  He dressed tiredly and trudged to the nursery, pulling his hair up on the way.

He relaxed a little when he saw that Mary Eleanor was still fast asleep in her crib.  He wasn’t quite used to her sleeping on through the night yet.  He didn’t know whether he was supposed to wake her up or let her sleep.  He elected to give himself the few moments of undisturbed peace.

Of course, that was occupied by starting a load of laundry and doing the dishes from last night.  John went through the list of due dates while they were draining.  He swore when he saw that the water bill was due the next day.  It always crept up on him.

He made quick work of drying and putting the dishes away, then booted up his laptop, grabbing Henry’s spare debit card.  When Mama had - for a little while _after_ , Henry had neglected to pay a few bills due to the fact that he was getting drunk off his ass at the local hoity-toity _lounge_ , where getting inebriated was more socially acceptable because the drinks cost $20 a piece.  The city shut off the water and electricity as a result.  From then on, John was to pay the bills with the card.  Traditionally, it was an _Alpha’s_ job to do that, but Henry probably figured that since it was still his money, his pride would remain intact.

Although, John couldn’t see how anyone who indulged their alcoholism and abandoned their family for months at a time could possibly have so much as an inkling of pride left.

Henry no longer drank as much, but he was out of town four days out of the week due to his job, so John still took over paying the bills.  Just to make sure they actually got done.  He wished that Henry would sign up for autopay already, but the man was paranoid.

John put his laptop away and checked on Mary Eleanor.  She was finally awake and sitting up in her crib.  When she saw John, she smiled at him.  His heart melted and he picked her up.  “Hey, hon.  You slept through the night again.  How great is that?”

She babbled a little, and he nodded along as if she was giving him vital information.  None of his kids would ever grow up feeling like what they had to say was unimportant.

 _His_ kids.  Fuck, he was doing it again.

He grabbed two outfits and set her down on the changing table.  “So, what’ll it be?   _Santa’s cutest elf_ or a simple Christmas tree?”  He held the clothes close enough for her to grab.  She touched the one with the tree.  “That’s what I was thinking.  Slogans like those are so damn cheesy.  And don’t say _damn_ .  It’s a bad word.”  He dressed her and looked at his watch.  It was ten after six.  “Fuck, I’m running late.  And don’t say _fuck_ , either.  That’s even worse.  Maybe I should stop cussing around you so much now, because you’re starting to learn to talk.”

John took her downstairs and got her settled in the high chair, remembering to put the bib on this time, and made her a breakfast of sliced bananas and cereal.  Everyone else would be getting banana pancakes because they were about to go bad and he was certain that the kids weren’t eating that healthily.  Some fruit would do them good.

He made the batter and left it on the counter, next to Mary Eleanor’s food.  He gave her a toy to play with and went upstairs.

“Six-thirty,” he called, knocking on everyone’s doors.  “Wake up!  Breakfast is in fifteen!”  He heard a chorus of groans and shrugged.  “I’m making pancakes, but if you’re late then you just won’t be getting any.”

With that, he went back downstairs.

Frannie was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.  “Morning, Clyde,” she said without looking up.

“Morning, Bonnie.”  He reached for Mary Eleanor’s toy, but she held onto it.  “How about a trade?”  He put the plate in front of her.  While she was distracted with the food, he put the toy on top of the microwave.  “How’re the headlines?”

“More are dying.  Scotland is officially ten percent under water.  Texas is flooded.  There was a blizzard in Maine.  And an earthquake in California.  Oh, and Puerto Rico’s grid got knocked out again.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

John shook his head.  “I think I still have some distant relatives in Ponce.”  He realized he’d forgotten to heat the griddle and sighed, flipping it on.  “Hooray for pissing off the earth.”

“Tell me about it.”  He heard a faint buzzing noise and Frannie said, “Someone called _Nolan_ texted you and asked if you’re awake.  What should I tell him?”

John snatched his phone from her.  “ _Nothing_ , thank you.  I can talk to him all by myself.”

“So who is this _Nolan_?”

John glanced at the stairs.  No one was coming down yet.  “Remember how I told you that I had a date on Monday night?”  When Frannie nodded, he said, “That’s him.  He’s a nice guy.”

“Still keeping it casual with everyone?”

“Always.”  He checked the griddle and poured some batter.  Frannie stood and grabbed him a plate.

“Being careful?”

“Of course.”

Her phone _ping_ ed and she pulled it out.  “Hey, Alex and Laf want to know if they can come over for breakfast.”

“Sure.  I’ve got too much batter anyway.”  He swallowed the dumb excitement that he felt in his chest at the thought of _Alex_ coming over for breakfast.  It felt oddly intimate.

He had a little bit of a crush on Frannie’s brother.  No one knew, and he intended on keeping it that way.

Besides, Alex had a girlfriend, and John was pretty sure that he didn’t go for guys, anyhow.

Alex and Lafayette got in ten minutes later, just as the kids were coming downstairs.  Junior was still in his pajamas, and he held his hands up in mock surrender when John gave him a look.

“Are dinosaurs okay?” James asked him as he sat down at the table.

“Dinosaurs are awesome.”  

Frannie was already setting the table.  “Orange or Apple today, Jamie?”

“Apple.  Are you sure, Jacky?  Because Billy Thompson said that dinosaurs are for babies.”

“They most certainly are _not_ ,” Alex said, coming into the room.  Lafayette was right behind him.  “Dinosaurs are the best!  Only the cool kids wear them.”

“But Billy Thompson doesn’t wear any, and _he’s_ cool.”

“Can’t be that cool, if he’s not wearing any dinosaurs.”

John smiled at Alex and looked over at Mary Eleanor, who had somehow gotten the majority of the bananas on her face.  He took a picture with his phone, then grabbed a washcloth.  “The food’s supposed to go _in_ you, not _on_ you,” he teased, tickling her lightly.  She giggled.

“So we’ve only got one more day left,” Frannie said from where she was pouring more batter.  “How’s that feel?”

“Exhausting.”  John finished wiping Mary Eleanor down and kissed her forehead before glancing at the time.  Six-fifty.  Not too bad, but not too great either.  “Are you okay with finishing that up?”

“Yup.”

John started packing lunches for everyone.  Ham and cheese for Junior, PB&J for James, and - “Hey, Mars, do you want ham or turkey today?”

“Turkey,” she said from where she was feeding Mary Eleanor the remains of the bananas.

John made quick work of the sandwiches, and stashed celery and carrots into their bags.  He’d read a parenting article about how malnutrition could negatively impact life as an adult, and he wasn’t going to let that happen.

That being said, he put brownies in there, too.  It _was_ their last day of the semester, after all.

Breakfast was served at seven.  Fifteen minutes late.  But the pancakes were apparently a pretty big hit, so he didn’t let the fear of making the kids late to school again linger too long.

They finished quickly, and John ushered them upstairs to brush their teeth.

The nanny was late, too.  But Frannie would drive John to school, so he had a little bit more time.

Marty and Junior grabbed their backpacks and lunches and jogged towards the bus stop.  James hesitated by the door.

“What’s wrong, bud?” John asked, crouching down.

“Are dinosaurs cool like Alex said?  Or are they for babies?”

John frowned and straightened James’ shirt.  It had a green tyrannosaurus on it.  “Do _you_ think dinosaurs are cool?”

James nodded slowly.

“Then they’re cool.  And don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Can I stay home with you today?” he begged.

John sighed.  “I’m not staying home.  I’ve got school.  And just think, you won’t have to go to school at all for a few weeks after this.  You’ll be able to stay here and do whatever you want.  So do you think you can tough it out for just one more day?  For me?”

James bit his lip.  Then he said, “I guess so.”

“Good.  Now go catch the bus.”

James hugged John around the neck, then took off.  John stood and shut the door, letting out a breath.

“You did it, Clyde.”

He turned and high-fived Frannie.  “Another successful morning, Bonnie.  Thanks again.”

“You kidding?  Coming over here and watching you fret over the babies is the highlight of my day.”  She’d been helping him out since last spring, when he’d first had to take over.

“So that’s a normal morning for you?” Alex asked.  “I don’t think I’d be able to handle it.”

“I have to agree with my brother,” Lafayette said.  “I got tired just from watching you.”

John removed Mary Eleanor’s bib and took her out of the high chair, wiping it down.

“Hey, kid on the move!” Alex said.  “How long has she been crawling?”

“A while.”   _You’d know if you ever came over instead of sucking face with Eliza._  John immediately scolded himself for thinking that.  Eliza was very sweet, and he shouldn’t be angry with her just because she was with Alex.  And everyone got busy with life from time to time.  Just because Alex and John didn’t spend as much time together as they used to didn’t mean that they weren’t still close.

Besides, John was busy too.  He had four kids to keep alive and a new job at the Italian restaurant on Fourth.  Not to mention, he still had to figure out how to do Christmas this year.  Because he’d be all by himself.

That hurt to think about.  A lot.

But he couldn’t get caught up on grief.  Not when he needed to plan and shop.  He hadn’t gotten everyone’s presents yet.  He added that to the list of things that he only had ten days to do.

* * *

 

“So the ham needs to cook for three hours, and the mashed potatoes will take about twenty minutes on the stove after the water’s boiled.  And we’ve got the sweet potatoes and the green beans.  Then the pie - God, the pie.”  John ran a frustrated hand through his hair.  “I should make the dough for that now, just so I can have it ready.”

“John,” Frannie said from the other end of the line, “are you sure you don’t want me to come and help?”

“No.  You should be spending Christmas with your family.”

“You’re my family, too.  How about I come over and help with the pie dough and the cranberry sauce -”

“Cranberry sauce?”  John skimmed the list.  “Fuck, I completely forgot about that.  I mean, I have all of the ingredients for it, but I didn’t even budget time for -”

“Deep breaths, babe.  I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

“Frannie, don’t -”

“You can’t stop me.”  The line went dead.

John sighed and continued rolling out the cookie dough.  It was Christmas Eve, and he was wearing thin.  The kids were all watching old Christmas movies on the television, and Mary Eleanor was with them.  It meant that he could focus only on cooking.  And if he had a nervous breakdown, then no one would be there to witness it.

Except Frannie, apparently.

True to her word, she strolled into the kitchen ten minutes later, donning a rather festive apron with ornaments and snowflakes on it.  “So, what’re we on right now?”

“Cookie dough,” he said as he pressed the cookie cutters down.  “Shaped fancily.  I’ve gotta get these in the oven soon, so they can cool enough for me to ice them in time for everyone to have some before bedtime.”

“Lucky for us, it’s only three.”

“Might as well be ten.”

“ _John_.”

He reluctantly turned from the dough.  Frannie placed her hands on his shoulders and met his eyes.  “You’re doing great,” she said.  “Okay?  You’ve got plenty of time, and no one’s expecting you to do everything.  You’re allowed to relax.”

John laughed humorlessly.  “Are you kidding?  Fran, I haven’t _relaxed_ since...”  He still couldn’t say it.  His chin trembled, and he clenched his jaw.

Frannie sighed.  “Come here.”  She pulled him into her arms and kissed the side of his head.  “It’ll be okay.”

He squeezed his eyes shut and held her tightly for a moment.  Then he shook his head.  “I _can’t_ , Fran.  Not right now.  Not when I have so much to do.”

She didn’t let go of him for several seconds.  “Then channel it into making the food.  We’ll get this done on time if it kills us.”

“Cheerful.”

“I’m just getting into the holiday spirit.”  She got out a saucepan.  “I don’t remember much about making cranberry sauce -”

“We can switch places.  You know how to cut cookie dough, right?”

“No, John, that’s the _one_ thing I don’t know how to do in the kitchen.”

He turned and gave her a look that was equal parts apologetic and tired.  “Sometimes I wonder if Alex got his sarcasm from you, or if you got it from him.”

“I think it’s more of a feedback loop.”  She came over to him and grabbed a spatula out of the utensil drawer.

“What’s that for?”

“Putting the cookie dough onto the pan.  Prevents it from stretching or breaking.”

He glanced over his shoulder and watched her for a moment.  “Thank you.”

“I’m here for you, Clyde.  Better or worse.”  She wrinkled her nose.  “Wait.  Sounds like we’re bonded.”

“I thought Bonnie and Clyde were, anyway.”

“No, Bonnie was bonded to someone else, but they were separated.  She wore his ring until the day she died.”

“So you’re cheating on me?”

“Yup.  Her name’s Annie.”

He turned.  “Really?”

She nodded.  “We had a date yesterday and kissed under the mistletoe in the mall.  It was really sweet.  I actually have a picture.  She’s so pretty.  But then again, _all_ girls are pretty and honestly it’s kind of intimidating.”  She showed him the smiling girl with almond eyes and rosy cheeks.

“She’s beautiful, Fran.  But you _do_ realize your ship name is just _Frannie_ , right?  Is that a metaphor for how you’ll ultimately be her destruction?”

“John, you insufferable kiwi.”

“Oh, sure, call the _gay guy_ a fruit.”  He huffed and went back to work on the cranberry sauce.  “I guess it could also be _Franannie_.  But that’s a mouthful.”  Then he snorted.  “Too bad she doesn’t go by Anna.”

“I’m scared to ask.”

He started laughing too hard.  “ _Frananna Banana._ ”

“Oh my _God_.”  She was doing a poor job of masking her laughter.  “I’m calling the police.”

They continued to laugh until Junior came into the kitchen and told them to be quiet.  Then they laughed harder.

With Frannie’s help, John was able to get everything done by seven, with a break in between for dinner.  He even had time to make up the dough for the dinner rolls, which he put in the fridge to rise overnight.

“So did you see Nolan again?” Frannie asked as they iced the cookies.

“No.  He knows I’m busy.”

“You think you’ll ever see him again?”

John stared down at the cookie reindeer.  “Probably not.  Keeping things casual, remember?”

She didn’t reply for a long time.  “You’re sure this is what you want?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve just never seemed like the type to _want_ casual.”

He shook his head.  “No strings attached is less messy.  I can’t focus on a relationship.  And I’m pretty content with my arrangement.”

“As long as you’re actually happy.”

“I am.”  He didn’t meet her eyes.  He wasn’t necessarily _unhappy_ .  He just knew that dragging someone into his life would end miserably.  So he kept it simple, used his dates as a pleasant distraction from everything for a couple of hours before coming home.  That was all he’d allow himself.  That was all he could _afford_ to allow himself.  Besides, he wasn’t ready for anything serious.  He didn’t know if he’d ever be, or if he’d always have too many responsibilities.

Life had been so stupidly simple before.

He and Frannie finished the cookies, then made hot chocolate for themselves and the kids and joined them for the rest of the Rankin/Bass Rudolph.  When the movie was over, Frannie took her leave, kissing John on the cheek and hugging him a little more tightly than usual.

“What do you guys want to do next?” he asked the kids.

“Read a story?” James asked from the floor, clutching his stuffed brontosaurus, Littlefoot.

“Stories are for babies,” Junior said.  John gave him a look.  Twelve year olds were the literal worst, he decided.

“ _You’re_ for babies,” James snapped.

“Ooh, solid burn.”

“Both of you,” John warned.  They grew quiet.   _That_ was a power he enjoyed having.  He just had to remind himself to use it sparingly.

“I’m just going to go upstairs,” Marty said, standing and stretching.  “I think I’ve outgrown storybooks.”

“Me, too.”  Junior raced up the stairs.  Marty followed close behind.

John sighed.

“Are storybooks for babies?”

“No.”  John joined James on the floor and glanced at Mary Eleanor, who was in her playpen.  “They’re not.  Big kids just go through this phase in which they think they’re too cool for everything.”

“I’m not a big kid?”

 _Fuck._  “You’re medium-sized.  Jamie, why are you so concerned about this?”

He fiddled with Littlefoot.  “Billy Thompson and Jenna Gray made fun of me and called me a baby.”

“Why?”

“I cried during class and they said that only babies cried.”

John changed his mind.  Eight year olds were the worst.  Not _his_ , but the other ones.  “That’s not true, hon.  Everyone cries.  It’s good for you.”

“It is?”

“Yes.  It helps you feel better when you’re sad.  And sometimes people cry when they’re really happy, too.  Crying is a very healthy and natural response to a lot of things.  It doesn’t make you a baby.”

James chewed on that information.  “So I’m not a baby?”

“No.”

“Even though I like dinosaurs?”

“Hey, dinosaurs are cool.”

“And when you read to me?”

“That’s also good for you.  It’s good for your brain.”

“Can we still read a story?  Even though Junior and Marty don’t want to?”

“Of course.  Go pick something out.”

James bounded up the stairs and John picked Mary Eleanor up, making a face at her shirt.  “Told you the slogan was corny.  But let’s take a picture for your Uncle Elias.”  He sat her down on the couch and snapped a photo with his phone.  “There.  I promise you’ll never have to wear this awful thing again.”

“I’ve got a book,” James said, handing it to John.  “Can we read a few?”

“Don’t see why not, so long as you’re in bed before Santa arrives.”

James looked doubtful.  John didn’t want to open that can of worms yet.  He sat down on the couch and James leaned against him.  Mary Eleanor was on John’s other side, gnawing on her teething ring and effectively getting drool on her shirt.  John didn’t mind that much.

He opened the book.  “ _Era la vispera de Navidad, y en todo el hogar reinba la paz..._ ”

* * *

 

“Wake up, Jack!  It’s Christmas!  It’s Christmas!  Santa came!”

He smiled despite his rude awakening.  “I’m awake.  Now could you please get off of me?”

James crawled off of him.  “Do we get to open presents?”

“Let’s eat some breakfast first.  And don’t pout.  They’ll still be there when we finish.  Besides, don’t you want your Christmas pancakes?”

“Christmas pancakes!”  He ran out of the room.  John rubbed his face and got out of bed.  He went into the bathroom and grabbed his razor.  He hated that his facial hair grew in awkward patches.  He’d always thought he’d look good with a beard.

When he’d told Frannie, though, she’d laughed so hard that she nearly cried, patted the top of his head, then whispered something about an infant with sideburns before laughing again, clutching her sides.

He finished shaving and checked on Mary Eleanor, who was half asleep in her crib.  He picked her up, holding her close to his chest.  “Let’s get you some food,” he said as he dressed her, “then we’ll go see what Santa got you.”

They headed down the stairs and John frowned when he saw Marty looking at one of the wrapped boxes.  “Hey,” he said, “wait until we’ve eaten.”

She shook her head.  “I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

She showed John the package.  “The handwriting.”

He feigned interest and looked at the tag, which was signed, _Santa_.  “Okay?”

“It’s the same.”

“Well, yeah, Santa’s handwriting isn’t going to just _change._ ”

“How’d you do it?”

“I didn’t write that.  Now come on, let’s eat some breakfast so you can see what he got you.”

James was making the table with gusto.  Junior was playing on his phone.  John got Mary Eleanor seated in her high chair and kissed the top of her head.

The Christmas pancakes were easy to make - they were just normal pancakes with red and green chocolate chips and then powdered sugar sprinkled on top.  But John remembered how much he loved them, how they tasted like _Christmas_.  Now, though, they just tasted like too much sugar.  He briefly worried about how these would affect James, who was already wound up enough today.

_God, I’m old._

He sat on the couch with a mug of homemade hot chocolate while the kids opened their presents.  His heart felt a little heavy, even as he watched James’ eyes light up at his new stuffed dinosaur, or when Marty beamed upon seeing that she’d gotten a telescope.  Junior’s satisfied smile when he opened up a new video game didn’t make it go away, either.  John looked over at Mary Eleanor, who admittedly looked adorable in her Santa hat as she played with her new toy car.  Then she pushed it away and grabbed the box that it came in, playing with that instead.  Figures.

It was her first Christmas.

He took a picture of her.  There were pictures of all of the kids’ first Christmases in ornaments on the tree.  His personal favorite was Junior.  Mama apparently hadn’t been able to get him to smile even once.  It looked like he was glowering at the camera lense.

John swallowed a little thickly and went to the kitchen, checking on the dough he’d set out to start warming.

James ran in after him and threw his arms around John’s waist.  “Merry Christmas, John!”

He hugged him back.  “Merry Christmas, Jamie.”

“Where’s Dad?”

John sighed.  “Still out of town.  But he said he’ll be back tomorrow, remember?”

James nodded, then looked at the dough.  “What’s that for?”

“The rolls.  Wanna help me make dinner?”

“No, thanks.  I’m gonna go play with my new toys!”  He raced off again.  John rolled his eyes.  He really shouldn’t have fed him all that sugar.  

He went back into the living room.  “Hey, Mars, can you watch Mary Eleanor?  I’ve gotta get started on dinner.”

“It’s only ten-thirty.”

“Yeah, but it’ll take a while to make.  And we’re on Christmas time.”  It was completely unreasonable, in his opinion, to eat dinner at three.  Then again, it would give everyone the chance to metabolize the food before they went to bed.  He’d read a parenting article about how people technically weren’t supposed to eat within four hours of going to bed.   _That_ was ridiculous, considering how the typical work day was structured.

Marty frowned but shrugged.  “Fine.”

Dinner was much harder to make than the pancakes.  Last year, he’d done a lot of it because Mama had been both pregnant and sick, but she’d still been there to help and coach him through.  Now, he -

He put the ham in the oven and got to work on making the pie filling.  Apple was Mama’s favorite.  She had written her own recipe, and used every excuse possible to make it.  Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.  If John recalled correctly, she had even made it once for Valentine’s Day, in the shape of a heart.  And John had made it for her on her birthday last year -

He started peeling and slicing the sweet potatoes.  They always had candied sweet potatoes on Christmas, too, because Henry liked them.  Henry wasn’t here, but John would keep the leftovers in the fridge for him.  If he ever came home.  He was always in meetings, always out of town.

John kept finding so many logical reasons to be mad at him.  It was so easy.

He actually finished dinner on time, and everyone sat at the table and ate.  The chair at the head of the table remained unoccupied, as did the one to the left of it.  The food stuck in John’s throat, but he forced it down.

“The ham’s good,” Marty said.

“And the rolls are nice,” Junior added.

“I don’t like sweet potatoes,” James complained.

“You don’t have to eat them,” John said, feeding a small bite of the sweet potatoes to Mary Eleanor.  She spit it out.  “Mary Eleanor doesn’t like them either, apparently.”

“I think they’re okay.”  Marty offered John a smile.  “Polly crawled to Junior earlier.  She’s really building her gross motor skills up.  Maybe she’ll be walking soon.”

“Good thing the house is proofed,” Junior said.  An uneasy silence settled in on the table.  Mama had _demanded_ that the house be baby-proofed before she even had Mary Eleanor.  That way, they’d be ready when -

“Want me to help you set up the telescope later?” John asked Marty.

“Sure.”

He fed Mary Eleanor some mashed potatoes.  She reached for more and grabbed at the spoon when he fed her, so he let her try to feed herself.  She hadn’t succeeded yet, but it was good that she wanted to learn.

“I don’t think she’s gonna get it anytime soon,” Marty said when it all ended up on her bib.

John took the spoon away and let her eat with her fingers.  “I don’t, either.  I’m pretty sure the website said babies can’t use utensils until fifteen months or so.”

“So why let her try?” Junior asked.

“Because she’s still learning.  And maybe she’ll get a head start.”

“What kind of question is that?” Marty scoffed.  “ _Why let her try_.”

“I don’t know, Marty.  It’s just a question.  I mean, would you give her a knife before she knew how to cut a cake?”

“A knife and a spoon are very different objects!”

John closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.  Sometimes, it was best to let them just argue it out and settle it on their own.

They finished dinner and John put the leftovers away, then started the dishwasher.  The kids had dispersed to play with their new stuff.  It was fine, not like he wanted the help anyway.

He went upstairs and changed into his new shirt - it was special ordered and cost half of his paycheck, but he had a feeling it’d be worth it.

He could faintly hear the front door opening and smiled to himself.  Probably Frannie, using the front door to make a proper entrance.

John walked back into the living room, and stopped in his tracks.

“Merry Christmas, kids!  I’ve got gifts for all of you!”  Henry put the giant novelty velvet bag on the ground and started distributing wrapped boxes to everyone.

“What’s with the hat, Dad?”

“I thought it was festive.”  He removed the Santa hat and put it on James, who grinned at him.

“Dad,” Marty said excitedly, “Jack got me a new telescope!”

“Very cool.”  John didn’t like how he said the word _cool._  He made it sound old and gross.  “Maybe we can assemble it tonight.”

“Sure!”

John wanted to intrude, but he couldn’t bring himself to.  Not when Marty’s smile was that genuine, not when her eyes were almost glistening.  He took a deep breath and went into the kitchen for no other reason than to get away from Henry.

He came through the door a minute later.  “John.”

“Sir.”

Henry studied John’s shirt.  “Aren’t you a little too old for dinosaurs?”

He turned away, gritting his teeth so that he wouldn’t say something he’d regret.

“You’re nearly sixteen.”

“ _Nearly_ ,” John muttered.  “I turned sixteen in October, remember?  You gave me fifty dollars?”  When Henry didn’t answer, he waved to the fridge.  “There’s leftovers.  Help yourself.”

“What’d you make?” he asked, crossing to it.

“Christmas dinner.”

Henry opened the fridge.  “You made all of this?”

“Yeah.”  He stared at his feet.  “Even the sweet potatoes that I’m pretty sure only you and Junior like.  There’s plenty of those left.”  He swallowed the lump in his throat.  “And I made apple pie.   _Her_ apple pie.  Ice cream’s in the -”

“Don’t cry, John.”

John blinked hard.

“It shows weakness.  And you can’t afford to be weak.”

“I thought Omegas _were_ weak.”

Henry gave him a hard look, and John felt a burn start in his gut.  “I never said that,” Henry said.

“You never said you were ashamed of me, either.  Doesn’t mean I don’t know it.”  Again, no answer.  John made himself stare out the window.  “Don’t worry.  I haven’t cried once since the funeral.  No emotions from me.  I don’t have the time to _feel_ , anyway.”

“John, you’re being dramatic.”

 _Dramatic?_ “I just want us to be on the same page, here,” John ground out, finally looking at him.  “Is this what the rest of my life is going to look like?  Day in, day out, caring for the kids and the house?  Is this what you expect from me?  Because if I’m going to make myself give up on every dream I have, then I really want to make sure it’s what you want.”  Because some stupid, irrational, _stupid_ part of him still wanted his father to be proud.

But he never would be.  He never would be, because John was an embarrassment to his bloodline.

Henry narrowed his eyes.  “Your family _is_ your life.  I’ve made that perfectly clear over the years.”

John laughed humorlessly, hugging himself.   _Hold it together._  “Right.  This family has to be my life so that booze can be yours.”

Henry stepped closer, and John shrunk, his chin dropping to his chest.  “I am the Alpha of this household and demand respect.”

“You are?  Could’ve fooled me, considering you’re never around.”

“I’m a senator.”

“And I’m a student with a part-time job.  We’re both busy, but I just have to throw everything away for -”

“ _That is enough._ ”

John winced and fought the whimper that bubbled up in his chest.  He hated when Henry used his voice like that.

Henry threw a small envelope onto the counter.  “I don’t want to see you for the rest of the day.  Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” John mumbled.  He waited until Henry was almost to the door to say, “Yeah, go play Daddy to the kids.  You’ve still got about forty-five minutes before happy hour starts.”

He almost wanted Henry to smack him, so he could justify stabbing him with the knife.  Instead, he froze for all of two seconds before heading back into the living room.

John wheeled around to the counter and brought his fist down on it as hard as he could, clenching his jaw against the pain.  He needed a distraction before he killed someone.

He was sitting out on the front porch an hour later, staring at nothing and feeling about the same, when he heard footsteps.  He looked up to see Frannie and Alex coming towards him.  “Where’s Laf?” he asked.

“With his new girlfriend,” Alex grumbled, plopping down next to him.

“You’re going to have to get used to it eventually.”  Frannie sat on John’s other side.  “Hey, Clyde,” she said softly.  “We saw Henry’s car and wanted to check in.”

“Is that hot chocolate?” Alex asked, leaning over to peer into the mug.

“It’s more _lukewarm_ than hot, but you can have the rest.”  John handed it to him.  “Family recipe.”

Frannie place a hand on his arm.  “You okay, love?”

John nodded numbly.  “I went through her recipe books, you know.  All of them.  I wanted to find the ones she used for Christmas dinner.  Turns out she had something to say about every single one.  There was writing on every recipe.  Portions adjusted, ingredients crossed out, extra steps added, substitutions.  All in the margins, all in her handwriting.”  He swallowed.  “And I followed every one of her steps.  I was painstakingly careful.  I did everything to the letter.  But...”  John took a shaky breath.  “But none of them tasted right.”

Then he was crying.  He buried his face in his hands and just _fell apart_.  Frannie wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close.  Alex hugged him from behind.  John sobbed into Frannie’s shirt, sandwiched between his two closest friends.

He pulled away from them a few minutes later, wiping his eyes.

“That was not nearly a long enough cry,” Frannie chided gently.  “I would know.  I’m the crying expert.  Competed in the Olympics for it.  Won first place.”

“You brought home the gold medal for crying and didn’t tell me?”  John chuckled a little, a few more tears escaping.  Alex took his hand and squeezed it.  There was a stretch of silence.  “She’s gone.”

“I’m sorry, John.”

“It took me seven months to say it.”

“Better late than never,” Alex said.

“We were worried about you,” Frannie whispered, brushing his hair from his face.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”  She pulled him close again.  “Never apologize for that.”

He almost started crying again.  “I don’t wanna ruin your shirt.”

“It’s just fabric.”

Alex started rubbing John’s back.  It warmed him.  “It’s cathartic.”

“It’s exhausting.”  He sniffled.  “This is my life now.  He said that my family is my life.”

“Bullshit,” Alex snapped.  “Your life can be whatever the hell you want it to be.  Because it’s _yours_.  Not his.”

“If I don’t pick up the slack, everyone’s going to suffer.  Not just him.  And I can’t do that to the kids.”  He let out another sob.  “I’ve been doing this for seven months.  I’ve been taking care of everyone for seven months while he alternates between DC and the bar.  I’m trying my best, but it’s so _hard._ ”

“I know.”  Frannie rocked him slightly.  “I know it is.  But you’re doing a great job.”

“And I’m sure those kids appreciate it,” Alex said.

“He can’t just decide to come back after seven months and act like nothing’s happened.”  He squeezed his eyes shut.  “It’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Frannie agreed.  “But maybe he’s trying to make things right with them.  I mean, didn’t he go to Junior’s piano recital earlier this fall?”

“Yeah.”  John wriggled out of her grasp and ran a hand through his hair.  He felt exhaustion begin to weigh down his bones.  “He goes to stuff like that.  I think he even took off work for the recital.”

“If he’s trying to be in their lives, then maybe...  Maybe you should let him.”  Frannie sighed.  “It’s not fair to you by any means, but if they miss him, and he misses them -”

“He’s also an asshole,” Alex snapped.

“Look,” she snapped, “I don’t know everything.  But I _do_ know that I’d give anything to even _meet_ my biological father, let alone have him show any interest in getting to know me.  If Henry actually wants to patch things up, I think it’s a good idea as long as he doesn’t do any more harm.”

“ _Doesn’t do any more harm?_  Are you hearing yourself?  All he’s _done_ is harm!  And what about John, huh?  What about how _he_ feels about that son of a bitch dismissing him as a fucking house maid while he parades around with the other kids?”

“It’s not about me,” John mumbled.

They both turned to him.  “What?”

“It stopped being about me the day those test results came back.  Now it’s about his _actual_ family.”  He wiped his eyes.  “I can learn to bite my tongue and coexist with him.  If that’s what’s best for the kids.”

Alex hugged John tightly.  “It’s not fair.”

“It’ll never be _fair_ ,” he whispered.  His eyes burned from crying so much.  “I’m an Omega.”

“No,” Alex said firmly.  “No, no, that’s not right.”

“Doesn’t have to be.”

“You don’t have to settle.  You can be so much more, John, I know it.  You _are_ so much more.  Don’t let him convince you that you’re not.”

John slowly slid his arms around Alex and rested his head against his shoulder.

“You’re the most selfless person I know,” he continued, “but you need to learn to live for yourself, too.  Don’t throw your life away just because your sorry excuse for a father wants you to.  You’re better than that.”

Something clicked into place, and John’s breath hitched.   _Par for the course_ , he thought bitterly.   _As if things didn’t suck enough for me already._

He was in love with Alex.

* * *

 

“So I’ve decided to call a truce,” John told Mary Eleanor that night as he dressed her in her pajamas.  Henry was still outside with Marty, figuring out how to put the telescope together.  It was petty as hell, but John was really glad that the telescope he’d picked out only offered the assembly instructions in Spanish.  “I mean, I’m not going to tell him that.  I don’t think he’s talking to me yet.  On the upside, he _did_ give me a hundred dollars for Christmas.”  He picked her up and put her in her crib.  “That’s going to go towards the car.  I’ll be needing one for when I go off to college.  Because I _am_ going off to college.  Alex is right.  I can’t throw everything away on this.  Don’t get me wrong, I love you guys, but I can’t make this my life.  This isn’t what I was meant to do.”

Mary Eleanor peered up at him and he leaned down, kissing the top of her head.

“Don’t know how I’m going to face Alex the next time I see him.  It’s one thing to just have a crush on him, but to be _in love_ while he has a serious girlfriend?  That’s a trainwreck just waiting to happen.”  He shook his head and turned to leave.  “Goodnight, hon.  See you in the morning.”

“ _Da-da._ ”

He froze by the door and slowly looked over at her.  “What did you say?”

“ _Da-da._ ”  She reached out to him.  He came back and blinked back his tears.

“I’m not -”

“ _Da-da, Da-da, Da-da._ ”

John gave her a watery smile and picked her up, kissing her forehead.  “You really gonna start that now?  You know you’re real father’s here, right?  I’m not your dad.”

She continued to call him _Da-da_ and he shook his head.  “Figures.  Just keep it to a minimum while Henry’s around, okay?  The last thing I want is for him to think I’m trying to upstage him.”  He put her back in the crib, wished her a good night, and went to his own bedroom.

Logically, he knew that she was probably just babbling like she usually did.  But he let himself believe that it was her way of assuring him that he was still needed and valuable.  He allowed himself that comfort.

After all, it’d been a pretty rough day.  He figured he deserved a bit of a break.

**Author's Note:**

> And don't forget, there'll be a new chapter of Disillusioned tomorrow!
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone!


End file.
